Intimation

I hold this intimation close

So close it’s kept well hidden

Or if not hidden unlikely to be found

A thought that very likely isn’t

But might be

Just a conspiracy of suppositions

Fantasies of transgressions

Unrealized but never unthought

Thoughts to hold

Silently smiling

At unrealized perfection

Fingertips playing contrapuntally

Independent melodies played together

In the midnight light of a held thought

Tracing maybes in the dark

Intertwined fantasies wait patiently

Parked

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013